


Burgers Sans Frontieres

by orphan_account



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Burger Shop AU, Gen, because of course
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4875178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A present-day "The Gang Starts a Burger Restaurant" AU because of course this is vital. Ongoing, with lots of characters from PW and TPP in the pipeline. No real shipping (can't violate the non-fraternizing policy after all) but maybe a few references to my favorite ones because I can't help myself. I'll try to update at least once a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Calling Card

10:33 PM, on a Thursday

A thirsty Thursday, as usual, but it wasn’t one of Kaz Millers’ best. Earlier in the day, he’d been running between classes to eat much of a substantial lunch, and had skipped dinner too so he could head straight to the bar. He ended up getting hit too hard, starting with a few shots on an empty stomach like some sort of idiot freshman, which led him to utterly embarrass himself in front of everyone by...

Anyways. He peered at the food menu in front of him, trying to make the letters stay still. This place was a real dive, practically empty on a Thursday night because it was more for thrifty townies than partying college kids, but that’s why he chose it, a near zero chance of being spotted by a fellow student. After he’d...

“So... do you know what you want?” The man who slid the menu across the bar to him was back, reluctantly checking in. The most introverted bartender Kaz had ever seen, he looked intimidating enough to control unruly customers with his broad shoulders, full beard, flannel shirt, but his service was definitely a bit reluctant. Maybe he’d been hired for his looks. 

“I’ll take...” Kaz anchored his finger on the paper menu, trying to hold down the item that’d caught his eye. “Uh... The Bott’s Special Bacon Cheeseburger. And a Blue Moon.”

“Right.” The bartender took the menu back, sliding it under the bar, and went through the swinging doors leading back to the kitchen. There were only two other small groups of customers along with a few loners, all of them probably twice Kaz’s age, quietly nursing beers and sharing large plates of french fries or chicken wings, nothing like the popular bars just a few blocks away. Kaz couldn’t help but think: slow turnover, limited appeal, short drink menu, no specials... the shortfalls of the business running through his mind until there was a gentle clatter on the bar in front of him. 

“One bacon cheeseburger, and,” the bartender set down an already-sweating glass, “your beer.”

“Oh, thanks.” Kaz picked the burger up disinterestedly, it was just some fuel to get him back on his feet, possibly recover his dignity and have a bit smoother sailing for the rest of the evening, but even as he just glanced at it before taking a bite, he had to admit it looked better than what he thought would come out of the kitchen of such a mediocre spot. 

But damn, it tasted good too. Nothing particularly special or unique about it of course, but just the way each ingredient was prepared, how they were put together, betrayed an understated level of passion and skill not suited to such a slow moving bar. He took a few more bites. A swig of beer. Tried to get his head on straight before asking:

“Who does the cooking here?”

The bartender was a few feet away, idly scrolling on his phone for lack of new customers. “Oh,” he said, looking up, surprised, “That would be me.”

“You’re kidding. You watch the bar and cook?” The bartender shrugged and looked out over the house floor, which, well, fair enough. “Why this job then? I mean, not to be rude but this is... maybe a bit below you.”

“Really? You think?” Kaz couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or this was just his usual flat tone. He decided to err on the side of sincerity. 

“I’m serious. You could be a line cook somewhere nice or... I dunno, maybe even a chef.” 

“You’re drunk, just eat.” The bartender smiled slightly, looking down again. 

Kaz grinned back as he took a few more bites of the burger. Still half-chewing, he continued, not sure what was compelling him to give this guy a career pep talk. The booze, the great food, or maybe it was all of that on top of his annoying passivity that made it extra-irritating. 

“See! What kind of hospitality is that? You’re really not cut out to be a bartender. So why this job?”

“Does it matter? A friend set it up for me and he said the tips would be good.”

“But I bet they’re not.” At that, the bartender’s face scrunched with annoyance for just a second before going back to its usual indifferent expression. 

“Yeah... not so much.”

Plans bubbling in his mind, Kaz finished the burger, then drained the beer for one extra nudge of decisiveness. He paused for a moment, rubbed his temples as he prepared himself, after tensely working the situation, to play his trump card. He hadn’t expected an opportunity like this to arise, especially after retreating after an evening of humiliation into a dive like this, but he was always prepared. He reached for his back pocket, a small stack of bisected index cards were always there. He slid one across the bar. The bartender immediately regarded it with suspicion. 

“Don’t worry I’ll tip you too. Just hear me out.” The bartender picked up the card. On one side, printed in neat hand writing: KAZUHIRA “Kaz” MILLER. And underneath: Business Student -- Entrepreneur. He flipped it over to examine the back, frosty blue lines running perpendicular to a handwritten phone number and email address.

“What?”

Kaz was clinging to the end of the bar, trying to regulate his breathing. It was the first time he had tried this on someone not at a networking event, the first time he had tried it clearly not sober too. 

“I have a bit of a problem I need to solve.”

“Well, that’s too bad. I don’t know anything about... whatever this means.”

“No no, it’s just... I took on a project earlier this month. Through the school, there’s a program where students can try to turn empty properties into new local businesses. We have to like, budget and design a brand and pay rent ourselves. So of course I signed up, thinking I’d have a ton of ideas but...” Kaz groaned, slumping to rest his forehead on the bar.

“You haven’t had a single one, right? Again, I’m sorry but...”

“Not until now. But now I know.”

“What?”

“I want to sell your burgers.” Feeling particularly humiliated after recounting the last month, Kaz couldn’t stop himself before adding an extra “...please,” onto the end.

“You want to turn the place into a restaurant, and have me be the cook?” Kaz lifted his head up, trying to judge the expression the bartender had after reaching the conclusion by himself but he was still unreadable. 

“Yeah, I mean, I’m okay in the kitchen but I can tell you have the touch, you know?” He paused, but the man behind the bar didn’t seem to respond to flattery either. “Just think about it. You could be more creative, have more control over things, set the menu yourself, and I’ll get more people in so you’re not bored out of your mind half the time. I promise you I can do that.” Kaz was unable to tell if the resulting silence was sulky or pensive, and after he’d finished the bartender only slid his phone out of his pocket again, typing something in. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“Relax, I’m just saving your number. I’ll call you about this when you’re not drunk.” He handed Kaz the card back. “And you can keep this. I don’t want to uh... waste them.”

Kaz slid the card back into his pocket and tried to relax. It hadn’t been an outright rejection, but the ambiguity still made him feel a bit uneasy. Still, he tried to retreat on a high note. Leaving a more generous tip than someone in his financial straits probably should, he reached forward to shake the bartender’s hand. 

“You know my name, of course, but can I at least have yours?”

The bartender took his hand firmly, with a tight-lipped smirk.

“It’s John.”

“Right, John. I’ll hear from you soon. And maybe try to get your friend interested too, he sounds like a real sweet-talker. We might need one.” That got a slight chuckle out of John.

“I will, Kaz. You’ll hear from me.”


	2. Two-for-One

3:30 PM, on a Friday

Kaz had his phone out conspicuously, sitting on the edge of his desk, ready at any moment to grab it and dash out of the room before the professor had a chance to ask where he was going if an unfamiliar number appeared on the screen. It’s fine, it’s fine, he thought. I have a reasonable excuse. It’s not like I’m waiting for a date to call back, though it’s just as nerve wracking. It’s for an educational project, right? Lost in thought, he jumped a bit as the vibration function disrupted the classroom with its telling low buzz, and escaped to the hallway. 

“J-John?” He found himself stammering into the phone.

“Uh... yeah. Are you alright? Bad time?”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Well, he had to make a mad dash out of class and tolerate an agonizing wait, but in the end it was, really, fine. “So? The offer still stands. I wasn’t so drunk that I regret making it.”

“Well,” John’s voice was still a little quiet, a little hesitant. Kaz could feel his pulse in his ears, that sinking feeling when you know you’re about to be let down gently. “Actually, me and my friend would like to come along and see the space you’re working with. He said that’d be the best thing to do before making any... you know... solid plans.”

“Oh,” Another ambiguous but at least positive response. Kaz tried to keep his voice even, neither disappointed or suprised. “Oh yeah! Alright, I’ll send you the address... um... I can be there around five, is that good for you?”

“See you then.”

“Of course!” From the phone ringing to his thumb hitting the “end call” button Kaz felt like he barely had time to take a breath. And now, he had to go back to class and sit, pretending his mind wasn’t going in a thousand directions until the hour was up and he could head to what would eventually be their shop, god willing. He readied himself to sheepishly apologize upon returning to the classroom but it was hard not to grin.

 

5:03 PM

Just a few minutes after the agreed meeting time, a beat-up pickup that seemed to be rattling on its axes swooped backwards from the street into the parking lot, reversing into the space just in front of where Kaz was leaning against the decrepit building. He jumped as the engine rumbled a few times before shutting off. Before he noticed John clambering out, a slim blonde guy hopped out of the passenger side.

“God, John, your driving is still fucking terrifying.” The apparent “friend” walked around to lean against the front of the car, still hot in the cool fall evening, and crossed his arms. “I always forget I’m taking my life in your hands when you offer to give me a lift somewhere.”

“Hey, we got here on time, didn’t we?” John was slower to get out, and actually acknowledged Kaz once he had deposited the car keys in his back pocket. “Kaz,” he said, reaching to shake his hand again. “This is my friend, Adam. The one I made the mistake of introducing to you as a ‘sweet-talker,’ apparently.”

Adam rolled his eyes at this. “Oh fuck off, I can use my skills when they’re needed, and you know that first hand.” He also hesitantly leaned forward to shake Kaz’s hand. “I’m mainly here to make sure you’re not trying to rope John into some harebrained poorly thought out endeavor, since he would be leaving a job I got for him.”

“Adam, come on,” John sighed.

“...And I may work for you as well as I am currently...” His eyes dropped, breaking the intense eye contact with Kaz he had been making. “...between jobs. But I’ll take more convincing than this one.”

“Yeah, sure, nice to meet you,” Kaz responded, hesitating on every phrase. The kid, well, “kid” because he looked considerably younger than both him and John, came across as unpleasant and standoffish almost immediately, the polar opposite of what John had promised, but, well, Kaz still needed people more than anything. “So, do you guys wanna take a look inside, and then let me answer any of your questions?” They both nodded, and Kaz awkwardly fumbled for the keys to open the front door. 

He was nervous. The truth was that the shop was not in very good shape. The fridges wheezed and dripped water onto the floor, a persistent slips and falls health hazard, and the stovetop was still caked in several places with blackened, burned-on stains from the previous group’s failed project. A small fryer sat in the corner, neglected, the baskets being used to store extra utensils, and the shelves in the back creaked under a mishmash of unused nonperishable items left behind by generations of students. The dining room didn’t fare much better. The walls were scuffed, needing a new coat of paint, and only one of the chairs seemed to stand evenly on its four legs. After a brief tour of the shop Kaz looked at them, expectantly waiting for their reactions.

“John, you can’t have been serious about this.”

“It’s not that bad.”

He took a deep breath before continuing his sales pitch. One. One still on board wasn’t bad.

“It might not look like much when nothing’s hooked up and running but if we fix a few things it’ll be a full professional kitchen back there.” He made sure to look John in the eye. “All yours. You can set the menu, just, within a few parameters.”

“So, head chef. I’d pretty much be able to do whatever I wanted.”

“Yeah, well, within reason. I might not be able to get you kobe beef yet,” Kaz said, trying to make a joke to lighten things.

“What? What’s that?”

“...Never mind. It was a joke.” But Kaz grimaced a bit at how his skill in the kitchen didn’t seem to mesh with the lack of basic knowledge he displayed. 

“He’s saying there isn’t very much money, John,” Adam cut in, before shooting Kaz a glare. “And maybe also attempting to be condescending. Who knows?”

“I’m not-- Listen, unless you want a job here you can just go, okay?”

“I’m still listening. Anyways, please go on.”

Kaz sighed, frustrated at how pleasant Adam managed to sound for a moment. Maybe John had a point. 

“But yeah, John, you would only have to worry about running the kitchen. I think that’s what you’d want. Everything else, design, branding, managing the front of house, that’d be me.”

“Sounds good.” Kaz’s heart leapt at John’s warm evaluation. “Just cooking would be nice. But what about him?” John asked, pointing his thumb towards Adam.

“Well, before I met him, I had an assistant manager post in mind for him, which would have involved hiring, scheduling, working with local food vendors, and so on, but...”

A flicker of actual anger passed over Adam’s usually merely annoyed expression. “But? But what?”

“He seems a little hard to work with, John. Maybe he needs to grow up a little.” John gave a short chuckle at this.

“Grow up? I’m probably older than you.”

“You look like you’re in high school.”

“I’m 23!”

Kaz paused, a bit taken aback by his outburst but also by the fact that this “kid” was two years older than he was. Into the resulting awkward silence John extended an olive branch.

“I’m on board, but we’re a group deal, ok Kaz?” John put his hand on Adam’s shoulder for emphasis but Adam only looked off to the side and sneered. “This is a favor for a friend who got me my last job.”

“I don’t need favors, John! This idiot would be missing out if he refuses to hire me anyways...”

“So you both want to work here, then?” Kaz said, trying to be cool despite his tentative excitement, the feeling of things maybe snapping into place. “Is that what I’m hearing?”

“Yeah,” John responded, nudging Adam, who gave a less committal “sure.”

Now, it was Kaz’s turn to go in for handshakes. “You’re both hired, then.”


	3. Applicants

11 AM, On a Saturday

THE SCENE: A dilapidated picnic table left on the side of the parking lot in front of the building, which would, within the week, hopefully become the headquarters of Burgers Sans Frontieres. There sit, on one side the three applicants carefully selected from a pool of varied Craigslist ad respondents. On the other side, Adam and a clipboard. The job interviews are not happening inside the restaurant, because it’s currently undergoing a gutting renovation, as evidenced by Kaz and John occasionally dashing between the pile of secondhand hardware, tables and chairs in the back of John’s pickup, and the dining room. The door is constantly swinging open and closed, and the scattered piles of supplies and furniture in the parking lot gives off an unflattering but true aura of absolute chaos. Adam taps the tip of his pen on the clipboard several times to gather everyone’s attention from the distracting spectacle going on behind them.

ADAM: Right so... Obviously we’re in need of some staff for the opening of this place, and you ladies... have been the three most suitable applicants so far.

(Silence. The three young women fidget, looking varying degrees of uncomfortable. The one on the left is the youngest, with blonde curly hair and a cutesy bowneck top, she presses her mouth into a forced smile and glances down the line. In the middle is the oldest, and tallest, idly fiddling with the ends of her long hair. On the end, the girl with her hair in a tight ponytail has her elbow leaned into the table to rest her chin on, legs spread and one jittering nervously. Adam narrows his eyes at the third.)

ADAM: Is that a dick on your shirt?

(She doesn’t respond)

ADAM: Well, you can’t wear that at work.

(She folds her arms across her chest)

APPLICANT 3: Fine. It’s rare anyways.

ADAM: Ok well, this is kind of last-minute... to speed things along Kaz decided, for some reason, to schedule interviews for all three of you at once. So I guess I’ll ask one question and we’ll go down the line?

(The applicants all offer variations of nods or shrugs.)

ADAM: Okay, first question. Uh.... What motivated you to apply for this job? You first, on the end.

APPLICANT 1: Me? Um... I guess it seemed exciting to start from scratch at a new place. I like to cook at home and... well, this would be my first job out of high school so mainly I just want to get experience! Also I thought the name was really cute...

APPLICANT 2: The last restaurant I was working for burned down. Well, don’t give me that look! I didn’t have anything to do with it. But, yeah. Need a new job and thought I’d be of help here. It’s... similar enough to the last place.

APPLICANT 3: ....My work ethic didn’t fit in at my last job.

ADAM: Can you elaborate on that?

APPLICANT 3: .... passive aggressive.

ADAM: Your co-workers were?

APPLICANT 3: No, they said I was... but only because they were so fucking slow.

(Adam pretends to scratch down some notes, raising his eyebrows at her muttered response.)

ADAM: Alright. What do you think is the most important practical skill you’d bring to the job here?

APPLICANT 1: Well, everyone says I am really friendly, even strangers. And they all say it’s hard to stay mad at me too! Haha... So I think my customer service would be good. 

APPLICANT 2: Experience, I guess. I’ve been through a few years in food service so I’ve dealt with just about any kind of disaster you can imagine, trust me.

APPLICANT 3: Precision and speed.

ADAM: Excuse me, what?

APPLICANT 3: What? Those are skills.

ADAM: Could you explain that though? How does it help your work?

(APPLICANT 3 sighs, unfolds her arms, and starts to let her leg vibrate under the table again.)

APPLICANT 3: I’m... an efficient worker.

ADAM: Right.

(Again, Adam pretends to take notes. In the background, the door to the restaurant swings open, and slams, as Kaz rushes out to check the back of the pickup truck.)

KAZ: Fucking damn it! No, John, there isn’t another can. I’ve already gone back for more paint twice today! Alright, we’ll go... just remember the swatch this time.

(John exits the shop and begins removing the last few items from the pickup truck, while Kaz notices the potential new hires are about ten feet away and definitely heard All Of That.)

KAZ: Oh hey, Adam, are these three lovely ladies the new recruits?

ADAM: Well, I mean, I was just asking them--

KAZ: They all look fine to me, how about we schedule a training session and--

ADAM: ...Look fine, huh?

(Kaz grabs the clipboard from Adam) 

KAZ: Well, obviously you were taking very detailed notes. 

ADAM: I can keep it all in my head! Just go finish fixing the dining room. I’m almost done here.

KAZ: Come on, let me show you how to really conduct an interview. It’s all in the first 30 seconds. You should be able to make a decision by then.

ADAM: Oh, is this from one of your cheesy business books again?

(Kaz ignores the obvious jab)

KAZ: If you really look someone in the eye, and shake their hand, you’ll be able to tell their true work ethic.

(Kaz nudges Adam aside so he is in the middle of the bench. He reaches across the table and shakes every applicant’s hand in turn. APPLICANT 1 hesitates, like she’s been offered some kind of dead animal, then gives a weak handshake with a mechanical smile. APPLICANT 2, on the other hand, stands and offers a very straightforward, professional handshake. APPLICANT 3 remains seated, remains scowling, but quickly grasps Kaz’s hand in an unnervingly strong grip. Kaz pulls back, and surveys down the line one more time.)

KAZ: Like I said, they all look great. 

(He pauses, smiling at each applicant in turn.)

KAZ: And now that we’ve shook hands, you’re all hired!

(APPLICANT 1 claps her hands together, looking shocked but pleasantly surprised, while APPLICANT 2 glances around unimpressed, as if she’s checking to see if she’s really on Candid Camera. APPLICANT 3 shows no apparent response.)

ADAM: What!? What was the point of my job then?

(Kaz pulls him aside while the applicants are distracted by the apparent good news)

KAZ: Come on, we really need to start training people. We don’t have time to be that picky. You were going to hire all three of them anyways, you’d only take notes if you had something to complain about.

(This is true. Adam rolls his eyes despite this.)

ADAM: Well, fine. See you all tomorrow for training then. Noon sound good?

APPLICANT 1: Sounds great!

APPLICANT 2: Sure.

APPLICANT 3: ...yeah.

(It’s decided. The six-member staff of BSF is gathered for the first time, in the parking lot of their as of yet unfinished restaurant.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't as obvious as I hoped, the three new hires are Paz, Eva and Quiet. The initial BSF team is assembled!
> 
> Also, as promised/threatened here is the first wardrobe sample/work playlist, and it's for Quiet!: http://coleoptera-kinbote.tumblr.com/post/130956517962
> 
> Yes, that's the shirt she wore to the interview. It's a real shirt: http://www.ebay.com/itm/DEATH-GRIPS-No-Love-Deep-Web-t-shirt-/321568931100


	4. Well-Oiled Hell

12:10 PM, On a Sunday

Between yesterday afternoon and Sunday morning the dining room had fallen into what appeared to be an inhabitable state, and each piece of equipment in the kitchen had gotten its cooking surface scrubbed to a low shine. Kaz and Ocelot had been there until almost 11:30 at night, fiddling with the appliances to ensure they could all be turned on and properly adjusted. Switched on and tested individually, they all seemed to work well and Kaz could begin to envision the place running like a well-oiled machine. However, when they were all turned on at once, in the early afternoon, with six people gathered around the pile of fresh ingredients on the prep table, something else became apparent.

It got really fucking hot in there.

Of course, they had predicted this, since there were some electrical fans in the utility closet, but setting them up in the kitchen was akin to bailing out a yacht with a bucket. As John finished setting up the utensils and doing final adjustments to the stove and steam table, apparently unaffected by the heat while everyone else was squirming.

“John, we should maybe get started now, or something,” Adam interrupted. John pulled away from the dials on the flat grill, where he was gently holding the heel of his palm a millimeter off the surface to make sure the temperature was perfect.

“Oh, yeah. Right, so... what are we doing?”

“Well, eventually everyone will pick up how to do most things but to start off, I have you as the main line chef, me and Eva on prep and plating, Quiet at the register, Paz taking the food out, and Kaz on general managerial duties, aka, anything that arises on top of that. So that’s the training we’ll do for today, and--” As Adam read from the list he’d prepared, he noticed Kaz standing uncomfortably close, peeking over his shoulder at it. “...Can I help you?”

“Are you kidding me? That seems like the worst possible personnel allocation. Did you go out of your way to make it that bad?”

“What?” Adam pleadingly turned to look at John, who shrugged, testing the grill with his hand again. “Fine. What do you mean, it’s the worst possible?”

“Well the fact that you have Stef on register despite already calling her by that nickname--”

“She can do it! If you’d actually talk to her she’s incredibly pleasant,” Adam said, folding the paper he’d put his notes on in half, trying to shield it from further criticism. 

“Okay, yeah. I’ll talk to her as soon as she responds to my attempts to start a conversation with something other than a wall of silence and rolling her eyes.” 

Kaz’s comment triggered the predicted reaction from her, of course. Adam sighed, beginning to sweat in the heat and pulled out a pen, writing down a new training schedule on the back of the paper.

“Ok, then I’ll move Paz to prep, Eva on cashier, and she’ll waitress. Are you alright with that, John? You’ll be showing Paz how to prep the food for you, I’ll be showing Eva how the register works, and Kaz, well, you know.”

“Sounds fine with me.” John gave Paz a friendly smile, which she returned. Kaz unfolded his arms, massaged his temples a bit before conceding.

“Fine, we can try it that way.”

After about 30 minutes, it was obvious that the results were very mixed. Eva must have had extensive experience with taking orders at her mysterious previous job, because she absorbed the cash register system almost instantly, leading Adam to try to concoct more and more dizzyingly complex orders to test her with. She rang up everything as if it were a breeze, leaving Adam gripping the edge of the counter in frustration. On the other hand, while Quiet was able to understand the layout of the dining room instantly and seemed like a pro at gracefully carrying trays, any trial requests from Kaz, who played the customer, for extra ketchup, a drink refill, the bill, was met with an irritated glare and a giggle from Eva, all the way across the room. Adam and Kaz felt like their attempts at training had both reached a dead end pretty quickly, and so returned to the kitchen to see how Paz and John were doing.

“Really? The tiny yellow ones? How do you get so many of them?” 

The scene they walked into was astoundingly peaceful and domestic amidst the hellish heat and incessant whirring of the old electrical fans. Paz had tied back her curly blonde hair with one of the bandannas John wore for food prep, and was peeling potatoes then cutting them into wedges with a paring knife while John formed a patty from a huge bowl of freshly mixed ground beef. They were carrying on pleasantly, apparently discussing something about birdwatching.

“Well, those are Goldfinches, and they’re attracted to smaller seeds, so if you’re not seeing them at your house you have to get the right blend and the right feeder...”

On closer inspection, though, maybe they didn’t work together so splendidly. In the past 30 minutes, it seems that John had made one batch of hamburger meat, and Paz had cut only 5 potatoes into wedges. Even when John would try to gently coach her into trying to work a bit faster, she still would consistently go back to talking about birds she had seen around her house, sometimes illustrating their locations by gesturing with the knife and potato in her hands. 

“Well, at least you’re getting along,” Adam interrupted, as John began describing his own backyard birdwatching setup. “Making progress on the food, though?”

“Yeah!” It was her first job, so Paz seemed pretty satisfied with her meagre pile of potato wedges, unaware of how much work was expected of a usual prep cook. John, however, glanced at the clock and frowned, immediately able to tell that their progress while distracted was inadequate. 

“She’s a quick learner, I’ve been trying to coach her...” He tried, but Adam looked unimpressed at his excuse.

“The coaching seems to be what’s slowing her down, actually.” Adam responded. Eva sighed loudly from out in the dining hall, and Adam craned his head around the corner. “What? You’re not happy about it either?”

“I mean, isn’t it kind of obvious?” Eva said. “Who should be doing what, I mean.”

“Oh, well if you think you know better than me, on yet another topic then--” Kaz elbowed Adam in the ribs to cut him off.

“Ok, what do you think everyone should do then?”

Eva faced both of them, placing her hands on her hips, and pointing at each of the other girls and then herself as she explained. 

“Quiet has great coordination and is a quick learner, she also keeps to herself so she won’t get distracted into a 15 minute conversation in the middle of doing something. Paz is obviously immediately charming, chatty and makes a great first impression, while I’m good enough with people but also have the experience to deal with anything going... awry. Obviously it should be Quiet: prep, Paz: register, and me waitressing.” She tapped her foot in the resulting silence. “I mean, come on! It’s obvious, like I said.”

“I think that’s brilliant, actually!” Paz said cheerfully, with Adam and Kaz still at a loss.

“Fine, yeah, sounds great,” Adam admitted eventually. “If everyone’s okay with that? No objections?” No one spoke up, so Adam continuied. “Alright Kaz, why don’t you explain what comes next then.”

“Okay, well, our first day is tomorrow... invitation only, so it’ll be a manageable number of people as we get the hang of things,” Kaz began, walking over to the mostly undisturbed pile of ingredients. “I thought, if you guys could lend a hand with the prep we could... you know, try out the burgers we’ll be selling. You have to have confidence in the product you’re selling, after all!”

“So we have to come in on a weekend and make our own lunch?” Eva groaned. “It’s miserable in here, I don’t want to cook if I don’t have to.”

“Well... Think of it as a treat, like, special preview.” Kaz couldn’t deny, he was pretty uncomfortable too.

“We’re the employees!”

Eventually, though, John working earnestly at forming up the rest of the hamburger meat into patties and throwing them on the grill convinced everyone to prep the rest of the ingredients. Sliced toppings, hot fries and toasted buns were divided up evenly between six plates before John performed the ever-important task of assembling each one. Everyone else stood, watching, quietly awed by his intense concentration. 

“Done,” he said, pressing down the sixth top bun lightly.

They sat out on the back steps to eat the burgers, of course, it was too hot in the kitchen, and they couldn’t make a mess in the dining area either. With a gentle breeze passing through, and everyone too busy eating to talk much, there was almost a sense of a silent camaraderie between them. Finally, Eva put her half-finished burger down on the plate in her lap.

“Fine. They are pretty good. We may have something here.”

Kaz immediately turned to John at Eva’s comment.

“See? I told you, John. Hey, come on. Don’t look so surprised!”


End file.
